


Sunshine Flavor

by Tres13



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cloaca, M/M, Slash, birdy bits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 03:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tres13/pseuds/Tres13





	Sunshine Flavor

He tastes like tangerines and sex, and you can’t get enough of him.

It took you a long time to convince him to let you touch him; he’s skittish in a way that’s partly the bird in him and partly just the Dave in him, and he was horribly self-conscious in the beginning about his strange, hybrid body, about the things that the human part of his mind couldn’t easily cope with. In the end, though, his desire to be close to you won out over his agonizing shyness, and he stopped fleeing every time you so much as stroked a hand down his arm.

The first time you kissed him, it was like a burst of sunshine on your tongue, bright and sweet and amazing. You buried your fingers in his downy neck feathers and pulled him closer, and he shivered under your hands, his own gripping your waist so hard it left faint bruises for later. You discovered that he needs to wrap his long tail around you to ground himself as you kiss him senseless, and that he moans when you knead a certain spot on his nape with your hand. His “happy spot,” you call it, at which he rolls his eyes when you aren’t touching him in ways that reduce him to helpless feeling.

He’s in a state like that now, naked and sprawled under you, face flushed almost bright, buttercup yellow with pleasure and embarrassment both. “John,” he says as you slide down his body, “ _John_ ,” and it’s a plea for mercy, and you smile and kiss the tip of his swollen member, smearing your lips with yellow-orange fluid, delicious like the rest of him. You close your lips around the head and he gasps; his body trembles, his wings tremble, and the serpentine length of his tail writhes restlessly against the sheets of your bed. You give him a few earnest sucks before pulling back, and he barely has time to catch his breath before you lick him someplace a little lower down.

He wouldn’t let you touch him there at first. He tried to explain his unease about it to you, that it was something dudes wouldn’t typically be sporting, that it was weird and wrong and even if it was normal for birds (“jeezus, Egbert, it’s not a pussy or anything, okay, it’s called a fucking _cloaca_ , look it up.”), it wasn’t normal for _him_. It took months of reassuring him that you didn’t think his anatomy was disgusting or that it made him any less of a man, but eventually he allowed you access to this part of him too. You take full advantage of this privilege whenever you can.

You enjoy teasing him, dipping just the tip of your tongue inside, rubbing your fingers lightly around his opening until he’s swearing at you in frustration. It’s worth the way his hard, claw-like nails dig into your scalp, because he lets up the instant your thrust your tongue into him all the way.

“Ohhfuck,” he groans as you lick deep inside him. “Ohfuck, John, _please_.” And you know he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, just that he _wants_ , which is okay because you want too, so very much. You tongue-fuck him, every so often pressing a finger or two inside him to massage him intimately, until his gasping breaths sound almost like sobs, and he’s shaking and clenching his hand in your hair tight enough to be impolite. His wings flutter feebly, and you reach up and wrap your hand around his erection, and pump it in time with the rhythmic thrusting of your tongue. He tastes incredible, sweet-tart and tangy and intoxicating; you could do this all day if he’d let you, if he’d last.

All too soon, however, he’s whimpering and bucking, and you pin him down and keep on working your tongue in him, forcing him high and higher until he cries out over and over again, and finally dissolves into weak moans for you to “stopstopnomore.” You pull away with a wide, satisfied smile, and the lower half of your face glistening with Davesprite’s pale-orange fluid. He blinks at you a touch dazedly, and you flash him a cheeky grin.

“God, Egbert,” he manages shakily. “I’m gonna have to stop letting you eat me out. You enjoy it way too much.”

“Heh, you just hate that I can make you sing like a pretty little canary.” You shimmy up next to him and kiss him, sharing that flavor of tangerines and sex between the two of you. The way he shivers faintly tells you all you need to know, even as he scowls at you upon breaking the kiss.

“Maybe I’ll make you squawk out a few notes some time,” he threatens.

You giggle, then gasp when the slender end of his tail slips down the front of your pants and curls around your painfully hard cock. He squeezes you, and you mewl softly. You bury your nose in the feathery ruff around his neck, inhaling his scent as he strokes you. Your hips move with the motion of his tail; a few firm strokes and you are gone, shuddering against him and moaning into the curve of his throat. You really do get worked up doing what you just did to him, and it never takes much to finish you off afterward.

You have just enough energy to roll the two of you up in a blanket, and though he mutters vague complaints about being turned into a living burrito with you, he snuggles into you anyway. Maybe after the two of you have a nap, he’ll let you touch him again.

And maybe, if you coax him properly, he’ll let you taste again too.


End file.
